"Luck and misfortune balancing out?"
"No. The Objet wasn't the problem—they were." Wuorin shook her head. "The first owner was a shoemaker from the slums. He probably made a fortune. But he couldn't resist the compulsion. On days he got modest gifts—which was 75 out of 100—he grew miserable. Eventually, he developed a mental disorder, spinning the wheel obsessively until he went mad."
A classic symptom of probability addiction.
Gamblers who hit rock bottom don't chase money—they chase the high of beating odds. Money is just the means.
"Years later, the wheel passed to a noble. Not someone who needed it. But one day, he hit the miracle gift—and..."
"And?"
Wuorin puckered her lips, imagining the scene.
"His house collapsed."
"Collapsed? How?"
"Miracle gifts are Objets. His was called Dreamstone—a pebble that materializes the holder's imagination within 20 meters. That noble indulged daily. You know how human desires are…"
Too embarrassed to elaborate, Wuorin stuck out her tongue.
Shirone understood. And he didn't blame the Objet.
All humans have desires; imagination balances reality.
The problem was when that imagination became reality.
"Anyway—ruin followed. Dreamstone found a new owner. Even now, it's highly sought after. But no one keeps it long. Some resell it within a month. Objets are dangerous—but the danger lies in people, not the objects. Most owners lived comfortably."
Shirone had no rebuttal. Yet his unease deepened.
If Objets weren't inherently dangerous—what were they? Why did such things exist?
His gaze returned to Probability's Wheel.
The idea of Objets creating Objets was, to collectors, like a goose laying golden eggs.
But it also felt apocalyptically destructive. If Objet production had no limits, the world would eventually collapse.
When he voiced this, Wuorin partially agreed.
"That's possible. Not in our lifetime, though. But it's fine. Objets aren't indestructible. Time breaks them. The most dangerous miracle gift so far is Eternal Torch. Curia Auction rates it A-class. Dreamstone is too. Probably, Probability's Wheel can't give gifts above its grade."
Curia was a global auction house—Neid had mentioned it before.
But Shirone focused on something else.
"Probability's Wheel can't give gifts above its grade." Plausible, but illogical.
"How? Grades are auction-house labels. The Objet can't know them. Is this just coincidence? Even in 240 years, miracle gifts are rare. With A-class being a subset, the sample size is too small for statistics."
"Maybe, but..."
Wuorin neither confirmed nor denied. Shirone's skepticism was reasonable—but after owning 40+ Objets, one gained privileged knowledge.
Like the VIP card from Curia Auction. Its back listed Rule 1:
"Objets do not guarantee 100% safety."
Members would ask curators about this. They'd then hear cases hinting at Objets' origins—proving Rule 1 wasn't just a scare tactic.
But Wuorin wouldn't elaborate.
Curia's VIPs weren't just rich—they shared an Objet alliance. Misusing privileges devalued Objets.
Yet stopping now would bruise Teraze's pride. So Wuorin let Shirone figure it out himself.
"Come here. I'll show you more."
She led him to a shelf. First was an ordinary-looking magnifying glass.
"This is Naked Truth. It shows bare skin."
"X-ray vision?"
"Yes. But only within 5 centimeters."
Wuorin grinned and aimed it at Shirone's lower half.
Even after the warning, he instinctively crossed his legs. Laughing, she handed it over.
"Hehe, you try it."
Shirone examined his own arm.
At first, only fabric magnified—but at close range, his skin became visible.
"Weird. But if you have to get this close, you might as well just look."
"Right?! You'd get caught instantly peeping. Maybe that's why it's D-class?"
"Hah! Could be. Still, it's useful. If it works on armor, inspections would be easier."
He returned Naked Truth.
"How does it work? X-ray vision?"
"Haven't checked. Objet abilities don't always match their form. Maybe the handle does it. It's low-grade anyway. I bought it just to pad my collection."
Shirone agreed—it paled next to Probability's Wheel.
Next was a bookshelf packed with scholarly works.
"This is Zion Oppa's—Sage's Library. Slot a book here, and its contents enter your mind. Fits about 120 Kazura-printed books. But remove one, and the memory vanishes."
Shirone was floored. A bookshelf that implanted knowledge? This was a different kind of shock.
"How does a shelf connect to a brain?"
"Surprisingly simple. Some Objets bind to users. Curia calls this Soulbound. Sage's Library is bound to Zion Oppa. It's B-class."
Shirone stared in awe.
This—this is what he wanted. Now he understood why collectors obsessed over Objets.
Wuorin showed others:
"Auto-Pilotte" – A headband that exercises you unconsciously for 1 hour. Effective, but users often flail grotesquely.
"Twin Stones" – Red and blue pebbles. Holding both loosens muscles via phantom massage. Shirone tried it—blissful, though lacking human warmth.
'So this is it.'
The Objet names. The grades even an outsider could guess. These clues revealed the truth.
Objets weren't random. They embodied human desires:
Beauty (Naked Truth)
Knowledge (Sage's Library)
Gifts (Probability's Wheel)
Imagination (Dreamstone)
Thus, Probability's Wheel—fulfilling ultimate desire—was A-class.
'Then what's S-class?'
If A-class was the peak of primal desire, S-class must cater to higher aspirations.
'Hoho. Starting to see the picture.'
As Shirone lost himself in thought, Wuorin smiled. This was why she collected Objets.
Meanwhile, Zion's stomach churned.
It was the first time Wuorin had kept someone other than a VIP member of the Curia Auction in the gallery for so long.
'How dare that bastard…'
To Zion, Wuorin was more than just a younger sister. She was the most powerful weapon he possessed—more than even the royal blood flowing through his veins.
'Why? What gives that bastard half-blood the right to act so arrogantly?'
Unaware of Zion's seething emotions, Shirone swiftly examined the other artifacts on display.
Now that he looked closely, the wealth here was staggering. Though most of the objects lining the shelves were C or B-grade, a few A-grade items stood out.
This was a luxury even a king couldn't afford. It was a testament to the overwhelming power of Wuorin, a direct descendant of Teraze.
After scanning the eastern shelves, Shirone turned his gaze to the northern wall. But that area was barren, save for a single sword on display.
Shirone: "Huh? Wuorin, what's that sword?"
Uorin: "That? It's the artifact Brother Zion treasures the most."
For Zion, who considered even gold trivial, to cherish something so deeply—yet the sword itself wasn't particularly ornate. No gaudy gemstones encrusted its surface, not even a scabbard. Yet, it had an inexplicable allure, as if its subtle design held an imperceptible elegance.
But that impression shattered the moment Shirone noticed the gem embedded in the hilt. Its presence was overwhelming, impossible to look away from.
As if sword itself were calling him, his feet moved on their own. By the time he regained his senses, he was already standing before the northern wall.
Just as he reached out to grasp the hilt—
Zion: "That's mine! Don't touch it!"
Even after Shirone flinched back, Zion's twisted expression showed no sign of softening.
Artifacts were supposed to bond exclusively with their wielders. But sometimes, their presence was so overwhelming that they tempted others. Though the exact criteria for selection remained unknown, the fact that it had lured someone else in its owner's presence was infuriating.
Regaining his composure, Shirone asked:
Shirone: "Ah, sorry. I didn't mean to. But… this is an S-grade, right?"
Zion: "What does it matter? You couldn't afford trash, let alone this. Get away from my sword. Who do you think you are, a half-blood touching a royal masterpiece?"
Shirone scowled and turned away. No matter how valuable an S-grade artifact was, she wasn't so devoid of pride as to tolerate such insults.
Watching him, Zion reconsidered. Maybe this was for the best. A perfect opportunity to demonstrate the gap between royalty and a commoner.
Zion: "Fine. Since you're so curious, I'll introduce you to it."
Shirone: "No, I'm not really—"
Before he could finish, Zion stretched his hand toward the sword.
Zion: "Come, Armand."
A clear metallic resonance filled the room.
The moment Shirone turned toward Armand, the sword flew into Zion's grip as if summoned.
Following its trajectory, Shirone twisted his body—only to freeze mid-motion. The blade was already at his throat. The cold steel vibrated, its high-frequency hum ringing in his ears.
Wuorin, annoyed at her hobby being interrupted, clicked her tongue.
Wuorin: "Brother! What's gotten into you?"
Zion: "Stay out of this."
This time, Zion wouldn't back down.
His lips curled as he glared at Shirone. His fearless gaze, even with a blade at his neck, was maddening.
Zion: "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue? Afraid I might actually kill you?"
Shirone focused on the vibrations against his skin.
He had already entered Spirit Zone. Through synesthesia, he could sense Armand's nature—bizarre, as if the sword were alive.
Is this really a blade… or a living creature?
Zion: "No answer? Weren't you the genius mage?"
His taunt was petty, especially after ambushing him.
Of course, Shirone was confident he could teleport faster than Zion's reaction speed. But evading a flying demonic sword mid-air? That was another matter.
Taking his silence as surrender, Zion burst into laughter and withdrew the blade.
Zion: "Hahaha! Just as I thought! All those magazine articles were exaggerated. A mere student, calling himself the greatest talent—"
Wuorin placed her hands on her hips and scowled.
Wuorin: "Brother, you're being too harsh."
Ignoring her, Zion tossed Armand aside. The gleaming sword flew back to its original spot and stood upright.
Only then did Shirone realize—there had never been a stand holding it in the first place.
Zion: "Know why I didn't kill you? Because you're not worth it. Even if I don't do it, there are plenty in the royal palace who despise you. You must've felt it this morning."
Shirone didn't understand. That morning, he'd been busy with paternity tests—nothing unusual.
Unless… Reina hadn't been reachable?
But if something had happened, rumors would've spread through the palace by now.
Shirone: "What are you talking about? What happened this morning?"
Zion tilted his head.
As much as he disliked him, he knew Shirone wasn't stupid.
Which meant Reina, his legal guardian, had blocked information from reaching him
'Hmm. He's sharper than I thought.'
Not a family head, yet resourceful enough to act preemptively.
Clearly, he didn't want last night's incident coming to light.
A shrewd move—even if he was an enemy.
Zion: "Heh. Now I see—you're just a pitiful fool. Even your allies don't trust you. You're the only one in the palace who doesn't know what happened last night."
Shirone: "Then tell me what happened!"
If Zion knew, then Reina did too. How could Shirone be left in the dark?
This wasn't a classified mission. What could've stopped even Amy from contacting him?
Shirone: "Fine. I'll ask her myself."
As Shirone turned to leave, Wuorin—who had been silent until now—spoke up.
Wuorin: "You won't find her. I heard she moved lodgings last night."
Shirone froze, his hand on the doorknob.
Another thing he hadn't been told. What else was happening around him?
Shirone: "Moved? Where?"
Wuorin: "I don't know. Brother's legal guardian added a gag order at dawn. You'd have to ask the audience chamber."
A gag order?
That was an aggressive move for someone in Reina's position.
Finally sensing the gravity of the situation, Shirone left without another word.